By JOHN RICHARD SCHROCK
In 2014, I spoke at a Beijing university. That evening, I was invited to dinner with over a dozen doctoral students who specialized in biology education. It provided an opportunity to ask some questions.
“When you get married, would you prefer a boy or a girl?”
Their answers were unexpected.
“I have a boyfriend and we will get married, but we have too much to do in life to be burdened with a child,” said one.
“I’m not getting married,” replied another. “Many good friends, but no marriage. I want to travel and research in my area.”
I turned to my host, their major professor. His jaw had dropped in surprise.
These students had grown up in major cities in China, where the newborn boy-to-girl ratio is 105.5-to-100, the same ratio as in the United States. Several other students were from rural provinces; they planned to eventually marry. And yes, they would prefer a boy.
I was prepared to ask my question because Chinese university students in the U.S. had already told me that in major Chinese cities, a girl was preferred to a boy. Boys were seen as more likely to quit school and go south to Guangdong to work in the hot economy and to buy a car and apartment. But girls were likely to stay in school, finish degrees, and then reside near home where they could take care of their parents. That is why the ratio of boy-to-girl births in Shanghai and other large cities is the same as in the U.S. It is also why the percentage of girls in Chinese universities is approaching 70 percent.
With these Beijing students, I probed further. These students were serious in their departure from the standard continue-the-family-lineage custom. But Chinese parents and grandparents are notorious for wanting that child or grandchild at the first possible moment—after finishing education, of course. Now there was a portion of this next generation who are ready to break that link.
For those students who had asserted they would not have children, and perhaps not even marry, I asked further: “Have you told your parents?”
“Oh, no!” was the emphatic response.
The countryside folks are rapidly moving into the city. Add to this the growing number of new college graduates who are electing not to have children or even marry, and a drop in population was obviously underway. Worldwide, an increase in women’s education usually results in some drop in childbirths. But in China, this expansion of higher education is the fastest in modern history.
This effect was just confirmed when China released its 2020 census results. Their overall population barely increased to 1.412 billion in 2020. Mothers only gave birth to 12 million babies in 2020, compared to 14.65 million in 2019. This is well below zero population growth (ZPG) levels. But improved life expectancy is still causing a small increase in total population. A decline in China’s total population appears to be only a few years away. This is not a new phenomenon since Japan, Singapore, South Korea and Taiwan have already seen downturns in new births and overall population.
Compared to the 2010 census, China has seen a decline of 40 million working-age people (ages 16–59) but still has a working population of about 880 million which will maintain economic growth.
Western countries are often surprised to learn that retirement age in China has long been 60 for men and 55 for women in white-collar jobs. In academia you can sometimes continue five more years if you have exceptional credentials. This retirement at an age earlier than in the West was useful for opening up positions for the more highly educated younger generation of graduates.
Now my university colleagues tell me that China is planning to increase the retirement age in increments, similar to the U.S. staged increases for full retirement under social security.
For Chinese families, this decision by more college graduates to forego having children is a serious break with cultural tradition. The lack of at least one grandchild will result in much disappointment for many of the prior generation parents and grandparents.
And it will result in increased usage of a new Chinese term: “Kōng cháo”---the empty nest.
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John Richard Schrock has trained biology teachers for more than 30 years in Kansas. He also has lectured at 27 universities in 20 trips to China. He holds the distinction of “Faculty Emeritus” at Emporia State University.